Companion To Murder
by Tamuril2
Summary: There's a more sinister reason than anyone could've ever guessed for Detective Frost's "weak" stomach. A Frost and Korsak frindship/angst story. Not slash!


**Disclaimer: **Not mine and never will be. Not getting any money off of it either.

**1st A/N: **A big thanks to my beta, demonchilde, for betaing this for me.

**2nd A/N: **This is my first attempt at a murder fic (and a more modern story too). Please forgive any mistakes I make because of that..though I do want honest reviews and tips.

Now, reloaded with flashback at suggestion of CSIGurlie07.

**Warnings: **Some brief mentions of rapes and murder, but nothing graph or mature (I'm pretty sure T rating will cover that, but please tell me if you think the rating should go up). Also one cuss word.

* * *

Frost knew many rumors went around the Boston Police Department about why he got sick at the sight of a dead body or blood.

**(Start Flashback)**

_Frost put his badge and gun inside the locker. Loud laughter echoed as a group of detectives entered the locker room. Frost stayed in the next row over. He didn't feel up to talking with anyone right now. The laughter died down to chuckles. Locker doors creaked open._

"_I'm serious, threw up right there in the alleyway! Reporters had a field day," a young voice said with a snicker. Frost felt heat come to his neck. They were talking about him and his most recent case._

_A snort came from someone else. "I wonder if they'll put it on the news."_

"_Nah, bad publicity for the Boston's PD."_

"_I feel sorry for Rizzoli," Frost heard a new voice say. "She's stuck with that guy, and his 'sensitive' stomach."_

_A woman sighed. "Give him a break, Harry. He's a newbie."_

"_Not after this many years he ain't!"_

"_What about what Doctor Isles said. You know, about the smell and sight disorder."_

"_Well, then, that just makes it so much better, doesn't it?"_

_Frost heard the woman growl. "Come off it, guys. What if it's more serious? You know, like a childhood trauma or something."_

_Frost gulped. _Too close for comfort, lady.

_Locker door banged close and the voices drifted away._

**(End Flashback)**

That last rumor came closer to the truth than Frost liked. He wished the other rumor, his stomach disorder, were true. If it was, Korsak and he wouldn't be in this situation.

Most of the time, Frost traveled with his partner, Jane Rizzoli, but he'd opted to stay with Korsak today. Rizzoli was on a lunch date with her mother, younger brother, Frank, and Doctor Isles. 'Family time' Rizzoli called it. Frost was glad she hadn't come with him, though he would have liked it if Korsak hadn't either.

Frost tugged on the cuffs linking him the radiator behind him. He had to get out of here before it became too late. The cuffs remained locked. Frost sighed, sagging against the cool rungs of the radiator. He'd promised himself he would never step foot in this house again. He still got nightmares from what'd had happened all those years ago. He could still hear the screams.

Everything still looked the same as it had back then. The bed freshly made with its blue sheets and red cover; the flowered wallpaper spotless of any stain. The dresser by the door looked at if it'd just been dusted. Even the pictures and toys around the room were in the exact position they'd been in all those years ago.

A deep moan brought Frost back from his childhood memories. Korsak was coming around at last.

"Korsak?" Frost said in a whisper, leaning over as far as the cuffs on his wrists would let him. They clanked against the radiator. "Korsak, you all right?"

Korsak groaned as he lifted his head. Frost watched as the older detective became aware of their state of affairs and test out the handcuffs that chained him to a large metal radiator on the other side of the room. The man exhaled. "Depends on what your definition of 'all right' is."

Frost had to smirk at the sarcastic answer, glad the older detective could still _make_ sarcastic answers. It made their situation seem a little bit better. It certainly helped calm his nerves.

"All right is not bleeding out," he said.

Korsak shook his grey haired head at him. "I'm all right then."

"Nothing broken?"

Korsak tested his legs and arms, as much as the cuffs would let him. "Doesn't seem to be. What happened?"

"Not sure," Frost said, "I don't remember too much...just walking to your car and being hit over the head."

"Same here. How long have we been out?"

Frost glanced at the clock above the door. "You've been out for about half an hour since I woke up. I was out for about four hours...if that clock over there's right."

"Find out who took us?"

"No."

"No one's come in while I was out?"

"No, though I did hear some male voices in the next room." One of them, in particular, that he'd prayed never to hear again. "Sounded like they were arguing. A door slammed shut. I think some of them left."

"Might be a good sign, maybe they're at odds with each other. We could use that."

"Or they might just decide to take it out on us."

"You always this cheerful?"

"Only when I have to be."

"You think it has to do with that homicide case we closed up last night?" Korsak asked.

"Maybe," Frost said, almost wincing at the lie. Oh, he knew this had nothing to do with that. This was about him, about his past, Korsak just happened to be in for the ride. Heavy footsteps stomped up to the closed door. The handle began to turn.

"Well, at least we're going to find out who took us," Korsak said, tensing up.

_Oh joy._ Frost thought as he watched the handle turn. _I can hardly wait._

The door opened. An African-American man in his late fifties walked through. He glanced at Korsak before laying his black eyes on Frost. The man grinned and let go of the handle. Frost felt a shiver run up and down his spine. His uncle Mori looked the same as he had all those years ago, except for a few winkles around his brown eyes and some greying hair.

"Evening, Barold," Mori said, stepping towards him. Frost glared up at the man. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Korsak's eyes go wide.

"Frost, you know this guy?" Korsak asked. Frost gave a short nod without taking his eyes from Mori.

"Well," Mori said, "aren't you gonna tell Detective Korsak who I am?"

"Why don't you tell him yourself?"

Something dangerous yet familiar leapt up into Mori's eyes at his defiant answer. "Now, don't go disrespecting your elders, boy."

Frost glared at him in response.

"Frost," he heard Korsak warn. So, Korsak had seen the gleam in Mori's eyes too then. He knew that Korsak warned him to back down, to not incense their kidnapper, but Frost would hang before he let Mori dictate his words or life again. He shot Korsak an apologetic glance and shook his head. Korsak frowned at him.

"Are you done talking with each other?" Mori asked, his tone bored, but still hinging on dangerous.

"We're done," Frost said. His face slammed against the radiator rods as Mori's right fist punched his jaw. He heard Korsak shout his name, felt warm liquid fill his mouth and dribble down his chin. He turned his head back and shot daggers at Mori's panting face. The man wiped his mouth with his fist and straightened back up.

"You know better, Barold," Mori said. "I taught you better, didn't I?"

"I don't listen to you anymore, Mori."

"Uncle Mori to you, boy!"

Another right hook struck Frost in the jaw. This time his vision went black. He saw stars as it came back a second later.

"Uncle?" he heard Korsak choke out.

"Korsak –"

"You look nice in a detective's suit," Mori said, breaking into their conversation. "Though, I still think a surgeon's outfit looks best."

Frost felt his eyes go wide. Memories came unbidden into the front of his mind, memories he'd tried so hard to forget. He closed his eyes tight. He fought against them, fought against the urge to vomit. He wouldn't give Mori the satisfaction. His breath came out in fast, wheezing gasps.

"Surgeon's…? What's he talking about, Frost?"

"You haven't told him?" he heard Mori ask. "Have you even told that pretty partner of yours the truth? Maybe I should invite her to the party…"

Frost's eyes snapped open. He almost growled at Mori. How dare he threaten Rizzoli! She'd had enough bad things happen to her to last a life time. She was one of the only detectives that didn't give him grief about his stomach problems. Frost would die before he let this monster lay one finger on her.

"You leave her alone!"

"Oh, touched a nerve, have I? Hmm, maybe I will go pay her a visit. She might even put up a decent fight…" Mori trailed off. He smirked, coming close until their faces were inches away. Frost could smell the alcohol on his breath. Great, just great, he was drunk. Life just loved throwing him curve-balls.

Frost tried the only card he could think of. "She's not your type."

Mori chuckled and patted him on the cheek. Frost leaned as far back from him as he could. "You would know, wouldn't you, Barold? Always could pick a good one, couldn't you? Remember?"

Frost stomach churned even more. He bit his lip. He was _not _going to be sick. He was not! He was not…Crap, he _was_! Frost dry heaved.

Mori laughed. "Still got that weak stomach, I see. Always was a problem with you."

Frost watched as Mori stood and stretched, bones cracking. "Ah, old age, have to love it. Reminiscing is fun, isn't it, Barold."

"Sure…" Frost gasped out, still fighting his stomach's urges.

"My sources tell me you've made yourself an even bigger name in computer skills and, you see, I think that's terribly unfair. I got the jail sentence and you got off scot-free. He hasn't told you any of this, has he, Detective Korsak?"

"Leave him out of this," Frost all but hissed. Mori gave his trademark grin.

"But I think he'd enjoy hearing about our history, about your not-so-clean record."

"Frost?" Korsak asked. "What's he talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Mori laughed. "Oh, I don't think it's nothing. I'll admit you've done a great job of tidying up. I almost didn't find the records. Guess those computer skills come in handy when you want to hide things."

Frost refused to take the bait. His mind jumbled with terrified thoughts. He'd hadn't planned any of the others to find out this way. He had hoped they would never have to find out, but had always calculated on it happening anyway. But out of all the scenarios, this one had never crossed his mind.

Frost felt Korsak looking at him. He glanced sideways, wordlessly begged the older detective to understand. Korsak's age old eyes bore into him, searching. Mori watched them. Frost knew he enjoyed the tension.

"How about I leave you two alone for a few minutes? I've a few things to prepare anyway," Mori said. "I'll be back in twenty minutes. Maybe you'll have the guts to tell him who you really are, nephew. If not, I'll be happy to show-and-tell. I have pictures to prove the facts."

The door slammed shut. Frost slumped against the ice-cold radiator, cuffs digging into his wrists. He ignored Korsak's stare and took a few deep breaths.

"Frost?"

He didn't think he'd ever heard that tone come out of the seasoned detective's mouth, except when he talked about Rizzoli's past with Hoyt. He looked over at Korsak. He gave him a weak smile.

"You can't always choose your family," he said at last.

"What happened? What's he talking about?"

Frost sighed. "Might as well tell you, since Mori's gonna show-and-tell later."

"What did you hide, Frost?"

"Everything."

"What?"

"I hide everything about my past. Mori's right, computer skills come in handy when you want a new life."

"What happened to make you want a new life?"

"Mori happened," Frost said. "You know those rapists and butchers we catch? Remember I told you how much I hated them? Well, he's why. I was thirteen when it started. Maybe he'd been doing it for longer, but I got involved with him when I was thirteen."

"Frost…" Korsak started, but Frost cut him off. He didn't know when Mori'd be back. He wanted Korsak to hear the truth from him, not that monster. He locked his eyes on the dresser by the door.

"My father's in the Navy, as you know, so he was hardly ever around and my mother's health started to decline, so Mori offered to take me in a couple days during the month. At first it was fun, no rules, no bedtime, but then he started showing me his true nature. He took young women and raped them. Then he'd butcher them and throw them in some ditch miles away from anything. He used me to get through their defenses, to get them alone. No one suspects an uncle with his nephew."

"Why didn't you go to the police?"

Frost threw Korsak a glare. "Don't you think I wanted to? That I didn't try? He threatened me, beat me! Threatened to hurt my mother and…and little sister."

"You have a younger sister?"

"Not anymore," Frost said. "I learned quickly that Mori meant what he threatened. He made me watch when he killed her. That was the last time I tried to ask for help from anyone. I never disobeyed him after that."

"Frost, I…"

"I know, sucks, huh?" Frost said, his attempt at making light of his past failing. "Towards the end he had me helping him butcher them. That's what he meant with the surgeon's outfit comment earlier. He always thought it fun to dress me up for the part. And people wonder why I get sick at the sight of blood or dead bodies."

"How long did it go on for?"

"Two years." Frost gave a mirthless laugh. He felt like crying right then and there, manly pride be hanged. He took a few deep breaths to calm his nerves and risked a glance over at Korsak. The understanding on the man's face made him look away, ashamed. He didn't deserve to have someone understand him. He should've been able to stop Mori, should've been able to help those women.

That was the worst part about all this. He'd yet to be punished for his actions in all this. Sure, on a rational level, he knew the court and his psychiatrist were right, that he'd been a victim as well. But some part of him, maybe the fourteen year old part, wanted to be punished for what he'd done. Some part wanted to have someone scream at him for not being stronger; to hit him for helping butcher and murder those helpless women. Some part of him believed what his father said.

"Frost–" Korsak started to say, but the bedroom door opened and slammed against the wall, cutting off whatever it was the detective had been going to say. Mori stood there for a few seconds, grinning from ear to ear, a small box under his right arm.

"My, my, but wasn't that touching?" Mori said, pointing to a corner in the room. A small camera with a red blinking light was aimed towards Frost's side of the room. Frost felt his blood freeze. "I didn't think you had it in you, so I brought the pictures. It seems a shame to waste them though."

Mori crossed the room in three strides. He knelt next to Frost, his cat-ate-the-canary grin still plastered on his face. "I saved them for just such an occasion, Barold."

Frost shut his eyes as Mori opened the box.

"No!" Mori shouted. "You keep your eyes open or I make a visit and cut out your partner's pretty ones!"

Frost opened his eyes. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to keep Rizzoli safe from this man, even if it meant looking at his gruesome past.

"Remember this beauty?" Mori said, picking a picture out of the box and dangling it in front of Frost's face. Frost glanced at it.

**(Start Flashback)**

_The young woman, her blonde hair laying wildly about her, struggled against the bonds tying her to the stainless steel table. "Please," she begged Berry. "Please, don't do this."_

_Berry shivered. He picked up the scalpel. His dark eyes misted with tears. He just couldn't. His grip on the scalpel loosened. Uncle Mori put a hand on his thin shoulder. _

"_Remember your sister," the man said. Berry whimpered. He gripped the scalpel harder. He had to protect Lillian. _

_Berry stepped up the table. He glanced at the woman's terrified face. "I'm sorry," he whispered._

**(End Flashback)**

The blood in the picture looked as real as it had back then. Frost vomited what little he'd had to eat that afternoon down the front of his shirt. Mori laughed and drew back a bit. Frost dry heaved. Mori took another picture out.

**(Start Flashback)**

_Berry's hand trembled as he laid the large knife against her chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He always said that – as if it made what he did any better._

_The woman smiled sadly at him. "Don't be. It's not your fault."_

_Berry choked on bile. Tears ran down his face. Uncle Mori clicked the picture. Berry glared at him. Uncle Mori frowned. _

"_No lip this time, Barold." The older man smirked. "Wouldn't want your mother disappearing too."_

_Berry took a deep breath and pushed the knife down. He'd failed Lillian, he couldn't fail Mom too._

**(End Flashback)**

"Stop it!" Korsak yelled from across the room as Frost dry heaved more.

Mori turned his grin on the older man. "You want to join in the fun, Detective? Want to see what Barold is really made of?"

"No," Frost said, just above a whisper. Mori winked at him and strode over to Korsak's side of the room. Frost watched in horror as he began to show Korsak some of the pictures.

"Isn't he just handsome in this one?" he heard Mori say. Korsak looked almost as sick as he did.

"You bastard," Korsak said, struggling against his cuffs. "How could you do that to innocent women? How could you make your own nephew participate?"

"He was quite willing in the end."

"Only because you threatened him and the ones he cared for!"

"Is that what he told you? Tisk, tisk, Barold, telling lies again?"

If looks could kill, Frost hoped that his glare would've killed Mori on impact. As it was, Korsak glared hard enough Frost wondered how Mori could stand it. He hadn't seen a look like that on Korsak's face since Rizzoli and Isles were both captured.

"None of these pictures show me that he was willing. In fact, they show the opposite," Korsak said. Mori shook his head and chuckled as he stuffed the pictures back into the box.

"Looks like you've converted yet another one, Barold."

"What do you mean?" Korsak asked.

"I'm talking about my trial, of course. You should've seen him. All tears and sobs. I almost bought the act myself. Was it any wonder the jury found me guilty after an act like that?"

"I…never…put on…a…act," Frost said, still panting from his stomach rebellion. Mori came over by his side before he could blink. A bony hand clasped itself around his neck and squeezed hard. Frost flinched in surprise.

"Don't you contradict me, boy!" Mori said, his tone low, threatening. "I know you for what you really are. A murderer."

"No," Frost managed to get out through his trapped throat. The hand around his throat tightened. He found himself gasping for air. A clicking sound told him that Korsak was struggling against his cuffs…or maybe he was, he couldn't tell anymore.

"You're a murderer plain and simple, boy. Let me help you break down that fantasy you've built up around you. Then you'll see the truth."

Black spots swam around Frost's eyes now. He couldn't get any air.

"Stop!" Korsak yelled. "You'll kill him!"

"Little brat deserves to die for betraying me!"

"Stop!"

By some miracle, Mori did stop. Frost gasped for air as Mori let his throat go. He felt the imprint of the man's hand even as he got up and stared down at him. Had _his_ hands been free, Frost knew he'd be rubbing his throat.

"You're right, Detective Korsak," Mori said. "He doesn't deserve such a clean, quick death. Not after revealing me like that. Don't worry, Barold, I've got it all planned out."

"What planned out?" Korsak asked. He sounded worried now.

"Just wait right here, Barold, and I'll be back."

"What're you planning?" Korsak yelled as Mori left the room. Frost heard him stomp down the stairs and into the kitchen. He took a shaky breath in and winced at the pain that spiked in his throat when he did so.

"Frost?" Korsak said. "You all right?"

Frost gave a thin smirk. "Never better."

"We didn't clock in for work this afternoon, so Rizzoli's probably noticed by now. Will she be able to find us? Do you know where we are?"

"We're at my uncle's house. She shouldn't have too much trouble finding us. Mori was never good at hiding his trail…that was one of my jobs."

"Well, then we just have to wait for Rizzoli to come with backup."

"Korsak, I–"

"No."

"What?"

"I know what you're going to say. Don't. We're both getting out of this alive."

Frost laughed, ignoring the pain it brought. "You don't know my uncle like I do. He–"

Frost never got the chance to finish his words. The sound of gunshots exploded from down the stairs followed by silence. Then:

"Frost? Korsak?" Rizzoli's voiced echoed up the stairs.

"In here!" Korsak shouted back. Feet pounded up the stairs. The door shot open. Rizzoli and three SWAT men burst through the entry, guns at the ready. Frost watched as Rizzoli did a quick scan of the room, then haltered her gun. She gave them both a concerned look.

"You two okay?"

Korsak nodded while Frost gave a shaky "Yeah."

A relieved grin formed its way across Rizzoli's face at their reassurances. Soon both their cuffs were off. They followed Rizzoli back down the stairs. She gave Frost a smirk.

"Did you have to make it so hard to find you? I mean, really, you're a computer whiz, couldn't you've left some clues or something?"

Frost gave a smirk back. "Didn't figure you'd need any, or that it'd take so long."

"Smartass."

"How did you find us?" Korsak asked.

"Department's cameras caught the whole thing. Once we figured out the license plate number and who it was that took you, it wasn't too hard figuring out where they'd take you."

"Guess you were right, Frost, he really didn't know how to hide his trail."

Frost shrugged and ignored Rizzoli's quizzical stare. A body on the floor caught his attention. His eyes widened a bit. Mori. Clean shot through heart; most likely Rizzoli's own work.

All of a sudden, it became too much; the kidnapping, the pictures, his past. Frost felt an all too familiar fear and sickness rising up. Memories filled his mind, screams for mercy. He lifted a hand to his mouth and gagged. Rizzoli was by him in an instant.

"Frost!"

"I gotta go," was all Frost could get out before he bolted out the door, paying no attention to the stares that followed him. He couldn't even focus on the officer that spoke to him, couldn't hear the words. A roar filled his ears. Panic began to set in. He had to get out, get away, far away. Mori was coming, he knew he was. Rizzoli hadn't killed him; he was only faking until the right moment.

Then Korsak was by him, speaking to the officer. He led Frost to his car, then they were on the road. Frost didn't know how long it took him to come out of that state, but when he did they were on some hill overlooking the city. Darkness had fallen. He glanced over at Korsak. The older man stared straight ahead, his fingers clutching the steering-wheel in a white-knuckle grip.

"You okay now?" Korsak asked, eyes still on the city lights in front of them.

"Better. What happened?"

"You lost it back there. I mean, really lost it. Scared Rizzoli and the others. She's called five times to ask about you."

"Oh."

"He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

"I'm not sure what you're–"

"You talked for a bit while you were under."

"Oh," Frost didn't like the sound of that at all. "I say anything bad?"

"Yeah. Kept mentioning a 'Lillian' too."

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Having a bad childhood? Having a murderer for a babysitter?"

"I got you involved in my mess."

"I'm glad you did."

"What?"

"Look," Korsak seemed uncomfortable, "I'm not good at this whole brotherly comfort thing, but…Look, what happened back then wasn't your fault. No matter what that guy said."

"I should've…"

"What? Been stronger? Better? Able to stop it? You were thirteen for heaven's sake!"

"That doesn't matter!"

"Yes, it does!"

"No! You don't understand! None of you do! I should've never done what he asked! Ever! I…I should've had some sentence for it!"

There was silence after that, then: "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out," Korsak all but growled. Frost hurried out. He watched as Korsak came around to his side of the car. For a while they just stared at each other. Frost had never seen a look like that in Korsak's eyes before.

"So, you feel like you need some kind of punishment for what you did, is that it?" Korsak asked at last. Frost could only nod.

"Fine."

The next moment he lay on the ground. He stared up in shock at Korsak and rubbed his stinging jaw. "What was that for?"

"You said you wanted to be punished."

"But–"

"Get up."

Frost obeyed, only to be laid out again with another right hook.

"Get up."

This time when Frost got up he saw the punch coming, but didn't move to dodge it. After all, this is what he'd been wishing for all these year. For someone to give him what he'd deserved all those years ago. The small part of Frost that had ached for this finally got the satisfaction it wanted. The pattern of Frost getting up and Korsak laying him out continued for a few more minutes before Frost finally collapsed on the ground, his breath coming out in short gasps.

His face, abs, and arms stung with Korsak's hits, but still he didn't feel any better. Why? Why hadn't this helped? Why didn't he feel any better? Why wouldn't the pain just go away already?

"Why?" he screamed out to the ground, punching it.

"Why what?" Korsak asked.

"Why won't it go away?"

"Cause you won't let it."

"Wha…?" Frost stared up at Korsak.

"All these years you've been holding a grudge against yourself. You've blamed yourself, cursed yourself, and probably even kicked yourself over what happened with Mori. But you know what? It's not going to help. What happened back then was a horrible thing. Maybe you should've been stronger back then, I don't know. What I do know is that you can't keep holding all this inside you. You'll shut down, Frost."

"But–"

"No, buts! I've seen it in cases all the time. People just shut down. But it's over, in the past. Yes, it was horrible. Yes, what Mori made you do was horrific, but it's over, Frost. Mori's dead now. You can start over fresh – really start over this time. I know right now that doesn't seem like much, but it'll have to do for a start. Those memories are always going to be with you, so do what you were doing before all this. Use what happened to you to make you stronger. Use it to stop other people from becoming victims. You're good detective, Frost, don't mess that up by painting yourself as a murderer."

"I–"

"Am going to think over what I just said, while getting in the car."

"Okay," Frost said, shaking his head in wonderment. What had he ever done to deserve friends like Rizzoli, Doctor Isles, and Korsak? Nothing, but maybe, Frost mused as he sat back in the passenger seat, Korsak was right. Maybe he should let the past stay in the past. He took a deep breath as Korsak started the car.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

By the time they got back to the Boston Police Department, most everyone had gone home for the day. Doctor Isles offered her condolences on the kidnapping, while Rizzoli gave him her own sarcastic comfort. Frost just smiled and thanked them both for staying to check up on him.

The incident was only mentioned for a few weeks before things went back to normal. Well, almost normal. After that, there always seemed to be a few unexplained black eyes or bruised jaws whenever someone dared to comment on Frost's "weak stomach" or "sensitivity" in a case. Korsak and Rizzoli – she'd somehow managed to coax his story from him – found it all rather amusing. Frost was just grateful to find such loyal friends.

* * *

Hope you liked it.

You know that little voice in your head that you're hearing right now? It's telling you to review this story. Please listen to it and give me your honest opinion on it. Thanks!


End file.
